


Dichroism

by IcyKali



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Elim is a baby gay, Fluff, Identity, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyKali/pseuds/IcyKali
Summary: Garak and Bashir have one of their lunches interrupted by Q, who wants them to consummate their relationship. Q believes that by bringing the parts of themselves who are more impulsive and who have been around a bit longer to the forefront, it might be exactly what is needed to hurry things along….
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Dichroism

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fusion of two different ideas I had for vignettes for my Garashir collection, but I soon realized this needed to be its own story!

“And let me tell you, Garak, I didn’t miss how moved you were by her plight. I heard that sniffle.” Bashir gesticulated, his cheeks flushed and green-brown eyes glinting in the lights of the Replimat. The show of it set Garak’s heart aflutter. “You empathized with Hilda Silfverling, didn’t you?”

Garak cocked his head, buying time to truly soak in the beautiful sight of Bashir’s good-natured accusation. “I have no idea what you mean,” Garak said, slowly. “How could I have had the opportunity to feel any emotion other than irritation at such an unlikely story?” A lie, of course. Despite the ridiculous premise, there was quite a lot that resonated with Garak. Whether it was Hilda’s own sort of exile, her death of identity, or the fact that she made her living by the needle, bereft of family—Bashir knew precisely what he was doing when he chose the short story, and how it made Garak feel loved!

“Why get into the how of it when you clearly did?” Bashir smiled that shy smile. “I know you related to—”

Garak instinctively shut his eyes as a bright flash of light overtook their lunch table. His pit organs sensed the encroaching heat signature of a figure before his vision cleared. When it did, Garak discovered that he had, in self-defence, driven his fork into the forearm of a figure who was lying on top of the table where the food once was. 

“Rude. At least it wasn’t in the hand this time.” The figure showed no sign of distress as he pulled the tines out.

“Q!” Bashir stood up. He looked away from the table and Garak followed his gaze. They saw that the rest of the Replimat had stopped, as if everyone around had been encased in a sort of temporal resin. 

“Ah, Mister Q—” Garak began. 

“That will be just Q, please.” 

“Of course.” Garak carefully rose from his seat and looked down at the visitor. “I must say, Q, if you require any medical or sartorial assistance, it would be polite to meet with us after our lunch break ends.” And he certainly needed sartorial assistance based on that unflattering outfit.

Q’s face screwed up. “I heard that, you know! You aren’t funny. I’ll have you know this uniform holds sentimental value.”  
  
Garak flinched. He brought his hands up in a placating gesture. “Oh, but I am sorry, Q! I was under the impression that I was… more skilled at withholding my own personal judgment from potential customers, you understand.”  
  
Bashir walked over to Garak, to stand by his side. “Q isn’t really like other psy-positive species, Garak. As you can see, he’s nigh-omnipotent.”  
  
“You take that ‘nigh’ back, young man. I am omnipotent!”  
  
Garak tried very hard to not draw comparisons between Q and a child begging for help with stuck shed. 

“But isn’t there an entire continuum of other Q?” Bashir asked. “You can’t all be equally omnipotent.” 

Q snapped his fingers, and with another burst of light, he was now standing. The laziness involved was staggering. “That’s your piddly human brain’s lack of understanding.”  
  
Bashir checked in order to be assured that the other people were still frozen before commenting, “I don’t exactly have a piddly human brain, Q. You do know that, right? The Federation doesn’t actually consider me—”

Q rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s right, you’re a fast reader and a bit better at tennis than your piddly human peers. That definitely puts you in a class of your own! Really, I don’t understand why you mortals would choose to create new Khans, only to remove their fun ambition and replace it with a talent for annoying people.”

Bashir flushed and his eyes took on a deadened cast. “Speak for yourself,” he muttered. 

Garak put a hand on Bashir’s back and glared up at Q. “Q, you are to tell us what you came for immediately!” he projected his voice. “We know you require our participation and for the two of us to be in full possession of our faculties or you would have forced our hands. The more you dither and insult us the longer you will have to withstand our presence. I repeat, what did you come for?!”  
  
“Oh, please. I couldn't care less about you,” said Q, arms akimbo.

“You didn’t answer his question, Q,” said Bashir. 

“I was getting there! But I suppose I can't blame you for being impatient—you are, like all mortals, continuously racing toward the end of your meaningless existence... but as meaningless as your life is, there is an audience out there with a vested interest in you and your bosom buddy, Ely.”

Garak put his best customer service smile back on. “My dear doctor, who is this ‘Ely’ and why have I never encountered—”

But Q did not let him say a word to Bashir. “I wasn’t finished, Ely. As I was saying, this audience is frustrated with how long the two of you are taking to _consummate_ your relationship, and I thought this universe was the one where it would be easiest to give the two of you a little push in the right direction.” 

Bashir’s posture hardened, revealing the stalwart man Garak admired. “This so-called audience is your voyeuristic self, I take it.” He did not phrase it as a question. 

Q inspected his fingernails. “Simmer down, little Jules. As I said, I couldn't care less about the two of you. I’m just sick of all the noise.”  
  
“I am not Jules, and he is not Ely!” Bashir shouted. His hands tightened into shaking fists. Garak rarely saw Bashir engulfed in fury. Perhaps, all along, he had been awaiting a target who could take the full force of it—there was hope for him yet! “You have no right to barge in here, ruin our lunch, and—”

Q finally looked back to them. “You know what, Doctor Bashir? You're right! You aren't Jules and Ely….” he smirked. “There's the rub! If you _were_ Jules and Ely, it might help the two of you pick up the pace.” He snapped his fingers once again. 

The warmth and pressure of Bashir’s back against his palm disappeared from Garak’s grasp. Garak felt himself enter freefall, and it was the final thing before he became insensate.

* * *

Before he even opened his eyes he was hit with an eerie absence, a sense of being simultaneously freer than he had been in many years yet also exceptionally alone. 

The grass beneath him was dewy and the level of light was comfortably low. The sky above was deep blue and glittering with stars. He pushed himself up, careful not to make a sound, and took in his surroundings. He appeared to be in a pavilion of some sort, one meticulously landscaped with various flora. Past gentle hills, in the distance, was a gazebo and a marble fountain. But, looking most out-of-place, was a bed just to his left, covered with Terran rose petals and made up with pink silk sheets. It smelled faintly of Delavian chocolates. Bashir was sprawled out on the bed.

Bashir’s eyes flew open. “What’s going on? Where are we?” He sat up and put a hand to his head before closing his eyes again. “Julian? Are you there?” he asked himself. Giving up, he slid out of bed. “I can’t feel Julian… does that mean you can’t feel Garak?”

Elim felt a burst of self-consciousness at the fact that Jules recognized him as himself so quickly. “What do you think?” 

“I think I’m right. Garak would be trying to comfort me and he’d be taking this more seriously.” Jules looked askance at the surroundings before refocusing. He had an unspoken question in his eyes.  
  
Elim nodded. “Yes, we must explore the perimeter.” 

Jules raced toward the fountain while Elim followed at a discreet distance. He watched as Jules slowed to a stop before hanging his head. Once Elim reached the fountain himself, it became very clear why Jules had such a reaction—from the vantage point of the fountain, there in the distance was the very same bed they had started from. 

Elim’s heart rate picked up as the fact that he had been abducted by an impossibly powerful entity and thrown into an endlessly looping plane began to sink in, but a well-timed exclamation from Jules brought him back to the present. “Where do you think Q took Garak and Julian?! We have to save them!” Jules could not stand still.  
  
“...Must you spoil my newfound freedom already? After I had to suffer through Garak’s diminishing me with the wire?” Elim muttered. 

Jules’s expression turned sour. He marched over to Elim, barging into his personal space. “Elim, you know it would be wrong to let them be kidnapped like this. And I also know that you and Garak are best friends, closer than brothers! You told me yourself, and you’ve been getting along so well lately!”  
  
“That doesn’t sound like anything I’d say. It sounds like something Garak would say while wallowing in self-pity.” 

Jules looked away for a moment, gears obviously turning in his head, before meeting his gaze again. “Then let me put things another way. How can you still pride yourself on being duplicitous if there’s only one side of yourself?” 

“Very presumptuous of you to assume I want to be duplicitous… and that is not what the word means.” 

Jules continued to pout, and Elim felt his smile widen at the glorious feeling of the two of them at an impasse. But it was not to last. It was only a split-second movement, and before Elim could react, Jules thrust his hands into the fountain, disrupting its crystalline surface, and flung the handful of water into Elim’s face. Elim recoiled as his spoon was soaked and the rest of the water fell in rivulets down his ridges. He hissed, a low, thunderous sound. “What have you done?!” he yelled. 

Jules had the gall to laugh! It accentuated the little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, the ones Elim certainly did not want to caress. “Well, I wanted to see if I still had Julian’s augmented body. I checked to see how articulated I was!” He paused, his green-brown eyes sparkling. “You look even more blue than the stars, Elim!” 

Elim had the sinking feeling he was becoming even bluer. 

Jules gazed into the fountain. The water was still rippling. “The stars look like ghosts when the water distorts their reflections.”

“...No one has ever seen a ghost. That makes no sense,” Elim muttered. He sat down on the marble, very close to Jules, then scooted over a bit more. Of course, this was because Jules made a very convenient personal heater.  
  
Jules poked each of the stars’ reflections, then dragged his fingers to connect them into constellations of his own making. But what transfixed Elim were the expressions that crossed Jules’s face as he amused himself in this fashion. Elim stole glance after glance at Jules, until Jules’s attention wavered and he caught his gaze. Jules’s smile softened into something sweet. Looking away, Elim knew, would be pointless. All that was left was to own his mishap, or was that simply a coward’s excuse for freezing to the spot? 

“Your wide-eyed reptile face is adorable!” Jules exclaimed. 

Elim scrambled off his perch on the rim of the fountain and backed away. “And look at how quickly you’ve embraced your imprisonment!”

Jules nodded unashamedly. “I was thinking it over. Q is all-powerful, and he claimed people are waiting for the two of us to ‘consummate’ our relationship—that must mean having sex, right? In that case, that means as soon as we make love, he’ll bring us back, and whoever is invested in our relationship and wants us to have sex won’t be happy if half of ourselves are missing, which means that that audience would be displeased and the noise Q was complaining about would resume even though we would have had sex already, and Q would then have to bring Julian and Garak back as well. And the reverse should also be true! Maybe we can stay here as long as we don’t have sex! Wouldn’t it be a waste to not take the time off? It’s beautiful here. Let’s have a relaxing date!” His words ran fast as the water in the fountain. “I wonder if Q made this place, or if it’s on a another world! Do you recognize the plants, Elim?” 

Elim took a deep breath, trying to look past the term ‘make love’ and instead examine Jules's reasoning. “I suppose if these all-powerful beings merely had a fetish for Cardassians and human augments having intercourse, or for our appearances, they would simply _make_ us have sex… or create puppets of ourselves to put in such a position.” He smiled at Jules despite himself. “...You are very clever, Jules. Such a positive attitude to being held against your will! And I do recognize a few of the plants, yes.”

“Yeah!” Jules cheered at the validation of his points. “Being upset won't help when Q has this much power. And really? Tell me about them, Elim!”

Before he could, he saw another flash in his peripheral vision, he whirled around as Jules leaped from his seat. Q was leaning against one of the gazebo’s posts. “Terrible showing, you two. You should be ashamed.”

“You mean because we haven’t consummated our relationship?” asked Jules. 

“Yes, but not just that! I really thought the two of you were about to argue when you spooked Ely by splashing him, but no!” Q shook his head. “I really do appreciate Cardassian courting rituals, too… nothing’s more riveting than a good debate or a puzzle to untangle… it’s a shame Cardassians are hideously lumpy.” 

Jules crossed his arms. “You’re wrong. Their lumpiness can be beautiful.” 

Elim huffed. 

Q gestured to them both. “There! Again! That was the perfect cue to start an argument, but you let the opportunity slip right through your fingers! Why aren’t you getting in the mood?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Elim said, sarcastically. “A better question would be why refrain from speeding up time, if you’re so impatient?” 

“What makes you think I’m not?!” asked Q. “You wouldn’t know what I’m doing on my end!”

Jules’s eyes slowly widened. They looked purplish in the blue light. “Q, you’re jealous.”

“What?”  
  
“I see it now!” Jules stepped up to Q. “You’re examining the two of us because you’re searching for a love like ours, and because you want to be able to associate with humanity despite your mean streak. You’re trying to learn from us because you can see that we appreciate the different sides of each other.” 

Q snorted. “Isn’t your intellect supposed to be enhanced? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Julian read your files and knows about how often you interfere in human affairs—including romantic ones,” Jules said. “You’re probably trying to learn from our relationship because you can see that Elim grew and found love with me even though he can be a real jerk! If you’re curious, I believe Elim needed somebody who was both very strong and very kind to be there for him.” 

The urge to anger Q won out over the urge to contest Jules’s words. Elim swallowed hard. “Yes, that’s right,” he whispered. 

“...You’re boring me.” Q snapped his fingers and vanished. 

Jules’s shoulders relaxed, and he circled around the gazebo to slip inside. He crouched down and cocked his head, looking at the little vines that were beginning to curl around the white lattices. Elim could not help but stroll over himself. “A very impressive bluff,” he said. 

Jules pushed himself up. “Thank you… but Elim, I wasn’t bluffing. I was right and meant every word I said.”

Elim scowled. “If you meant what you claimed about _lumpiness_ , you will be sorry!”

“But you loved what I said!”

Elim started and sputtered. “Why, you—so bold! And tactless!” 

Jules practically floated over and leaned in close. “You’re especially cute when you puff out your cheeks like that.” He winked.

Elim felt the sting of absence. If Garak were present—the sappy old fool—he would certainly smile and embrace the rush of warmth despite his fluttering insides. If Julian were present, he would temper his flirtation with biting observations and a shy circuitousness of his own. But to be faced with the veritable beam of affection that was Jules while unchaperoned was overwhelming. 

“Could you still tell me about the plants? Unless, um, you wouldn’t be interested in that or aren’t willing to share your knowledge. It’s just that I’m still curious about them and would like to know what you recognize.”

Elim, still reeling, remained silent. 

Jules seemed to shrink inward on himself and looked away. “You are very blue. I’m guessing you need a break… a break from me.” 

“Uh… no! No!” Elim exclaimed, scrambling for words. “I was… disoriented, but I am happy to inform you about the plants.” He paused. “That is, because it’s not as if I have anything better to do. No duties to attend to… I might as well enjoy the time with you.” Not waiting to hear what mindbendingly direct statement Jules would make about that admission, Elim spun away and gestured to the little vines. “It should come as no surprise to you that many of them are edible.”

Jules plucked one of the vines and rubbed it between his fingers. “It smells oniony.”

“Yes… they are similar to Terran allium species, yet with scandent stems.” He made his way over to a dark bush with thick, fleshy leaves near the bed. He picked one of these growths. “The plant life growing by this bed can act as natural lubricant. See?” He broke it open and a clear, gooey emulsion dripped out. 

Jules chuckled. “If many of the plants here are edible, the water flowing through the fountain is fresh, and there’s even a bed for us to sleep in, do you know what that means? We could spend as long as we want here!” He put a hand on Elim’s back. “I’m going to think of this adventure as an unplanned vacation with my husband.”

Elim glared at him. “I don’t recall ever marrying you.” 

Jules tried to lean against him, but Elim slipped away. Jules kept smiling nevertheless. “Elim, you once told me that truth is in the eye of the beholder,” he said. “Well, in my truth, we’re married!” 

“And we are, despite my never agreeing to this—engagement?!” 

“You said 'Yes' in my truth! Of course we wouldn't be married in my truth if you hadn't agreed to the engagement. Again, the truth is in the eye of the beholder!”

“I—that’s! I do say that, but—! That’s not what that means!” Elim stammered. 

“No? Then what does it mean?” 

Elim huffed and turned away. The stars were twinkling due to the pleasant moisture of the pavilion. “You are incorrigible,” he muttered. 

Elim sensed the impending hug from behind, but he let it happen. “Your calling me incorrigible is one of my favorite things, Elim.” Jules nestled his head into the crook of Elim’s neck, taking full advantage of being the taller one of them. 

Elim shivered from the contact. It set his body alight, as did Elim’s knowledge that Jules knew exactly what he was doing to him! “Why would that be one of your favorite things?!” 

“Because the etymology of the word ‘incorrigible’ in Standard is ‘unable to be corrected, fixed, or punished.’ After everything my parents put me through, hearing that from a survivor like you reminds me that I’m still here,” Jules whispered into Elim’s ear.  
  
What was there to do besides turn around in Jules’s arms and reciprocate his embrace? Elim did so and closed his eyes, getting lost in the sounds of Jules’s breathing, pulse, and the persistent rush of water from the fountain as he sank into Jules’s warmth.

Eventually, Jules broke the silence. “...Julian knows Cardassians can’t hear as well as augments like myself, but did you hear somebody gagging just now, Elim?” 

Elim pulled back and smirked. “Oh, no, I didn’t. But now that you mention it, I could go for a chaste nap. Why rush when we can finally relax?”

“You’re right, Elim. When we wake up, I want to stargaze with you.” 

Jules’s smile was far brighter than all the stars in the sky combined, so after smiling back, Elim had to look away. 

* * *

Several slumbers in the bed with pink silk sheets later, and Garak awoke not to the sound of crinkling rose petals, but instead to the feeling of Kukalaka squished between his chest and Bashir’s in Bashir’s quarters. It was unclear how long the vacation had been before Q had ended it—whenever Jules and Elim had woken up, the stars had remained shining and the sky gently darkened—and the apparent immutability of their their time spent together reminded Garak, in retrospect, of a phenomenon Bashir had once told him about over lunch. Apparently, various regions of Earth were at latitudes that caused them to spend weeks either bathed in continuous sunlight or darkness. 

Bashir stirred and rolled into Garak’s arms. “...Hello, you,” Bashir said. 

“My dear Julian, it appears that Q has caused us to put your small friend in a rather uncomfortable position!” He lifted Kukalaka. 

“Oh, I don’t think he minds.” He sat up and leaned against the wall. 

Garak followed suit. “How are you feeling, Doctor?” 

“Well, much more integrated, obviously. Actually, I feel like I had a long, peaceful sleep. Something I’m not used to,” Bashir said. He stared off into space as if trying to find something hidden on the far wall. “In the files on Q I studied, it was suggested that he often acts as a sort of guide for humanity who tries to indirectly teach people through questionable methods, but when we encountered him he was so cruel I didn’t quite believe it.”

“And now?” 

“In the past, when I thought it might be Jules saying or doing something, I kept questioning it.” Bashir sighed. “I would second-guess my judgment, telling myself, ‘No, you’re deluded. You’re only playacting. The real Jules was murdered by your parents and you’re only playing pretend because your impostor syndrome is too severe to handle!’”

Garak scooted over to Bashir and leaned against his shoulder. 

Bashir pulled him close. “But if Q was able to do that and Jules remembers all our history together, that proves Jules was as persistent as Elim all along.”

“If Q helped you finally realize this, Julian,” Garak said, “then I can begrudge him nothing.” 

Bashir caressed the side of Garak’s face for a while but Garak could not resist turning into it and lapping at Bashir’s palm with a _mlem_. Bashir laughed and wiped his hand on Garak’s tunic. “My dear doctor,” Garak said, wiggling, “our relationship never did end up _consummated_! Perhaps we should work on that now…?” 

“Silly old queen!” Bashir’s face reddened gorgeously and he used his enhanced agility and articulation to fling a pillow across the bed at Garak. 

Garak collapsed theatrically. 

Bashir rolled his eyes before reaching out to pull him up. “Wait… Garak, I hear that gagging again!” he exclaimed. 

Indeed, it was quite the retching noise! “I do as well, my dear!” 

And so they took the most pertinent action and gently kissed. 


End file.
